


Roots

by Killermanatee



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Calls Home, Episode Tag, Gen, Talking to family, s7ep19: author author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee
Summary: "Who's everyone else calling?""I'll be calling my sister."- Here is my idea of how that call played out.





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen8462](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/gifts).



> Helen provided the following prompt: In lieu of the discussion Re: Sekaya. I'd love to hear the 3 minute video communication he has with her.  
> Thank you for that bunny and your wonderful input. I hope this lives up to your expectations. :)

I am nervous. Which is completely ridiculous considering I am about to talk to my brother, the one person probably most like me. Yet here I am, anxiously tapping the desk, awaiting the call to be routed through by Starfleet Command. While I wait, I go over my list. I have to convey the greetings from our tribe and obviously tell him that mom is well and awaiting his return more eagerly than ever. I will tell him about the celebration we had when we found out he was alive and about the joy his letter brought everyone. But then what?

Three minutes is an impossibly short time after not speaking to him for almost seven years. How am I supposed to pick which events are relevant and which aren’t? Will he care about the developments in the Federation? Probably, but he must be getting updates through Starfleet. So I shouldn’t waste time on things he already knows about.

I have to tell him that I miss him, that we all miss him. That we expect to see him return to us healthy. That he will always be welcome at home. That it no longer matters he left or why. That we will just be happy to see him again after we thought he was lost to us forever.

I won’t tell him about the dark times. There is no point. Three minutes is not the right timeframe to burden him with events we have tried so hard to put behind us.

How long has it been since we’ve seen each other in person? Has it been a full eight years? That can’t be right. Does it just feel that long because of the war? When was the last time he was home?

I instantly answer the call when my console beeps and then without further warning he appears on the screen and the shock of suddenly seeing him, really him, like he could transport over the next minute, takes my breath away. My hand flies to my lips, I swallow hard and try my best to hold back the tears. My screen shows him standing alone in a large room, slightly from above, with his hands resting on the console in front of him.

“Hi Sekky.” His voice is a little rough, yet it’s as warm and comforting as it has always been.

I suddenly realize my cheeks hurt with the force of my smile and I drop my hand. “Hi.” I take a deep breath. “This is surreal. You look like you could be in orbit.”

He laughs. “Trust me, I wish I was. But the last time I checked, we were still in the Delta Quadrant.”

I take in this man who is still my brother, despite the distance and years. He is in the uniform he once fought so hard to earn and then abandoned with a broken heart. He wears it well. His posture is confident, steadfast as it has always been. His face is showing deeper lines, more concerns, burdens he has had to carry. Then I notice something else distinctively different from the most recent picture I have of him.

And before I can think about it, I blurt out: “What happened to your hair?”

“What?”

“Your hair hasn’t been this dark since… at least twelve years ago. Did you get vain in your old age?”

He tugs at his ear, just like he used to whenever he had to live up to his mistakes, and the sight of the familiar gestures settles warm in my heart.

“Well,” he glances to his side, just off screen, and I wonder if there is someone in the room with him before he speaks up again. “It was getting very grey, very quickly.”

I chuckle. Vanity it is then.  “You still look good, big brother.”

He smiles at me, the way I remember, with his lips and eyes and entire being. It has been a very long time since I have seen him like this. Looking content.

“So do you, little sister.”

I want to just sit here and take in the sight of him, store it away deep inside, but then I remember that we have three minutes and then he will be gone once more.

“Mom wants me to tell you that she thinks of you every day. I tried to get her to come here so she could speak with you, but you know how they all are. I will visit her next week though and tell her everything.”

His smile falters slightly. “Tell her I miss her. And I understand why she didn’t leave home. The next chance we have, I will send another letter. Will you please pass it on again?”

“Of course. She likes to talk about you, you know? Of the heroic son who returned from the dead and laid down his weapons for a chance to bring his people home.” His eyes show amused acceptance and I am struck once more by how easy it is for me to read him. We know our mother, we both understand why she won’t talk to him herself and yet tries to incorporate him into her life. With Chakotay, so many things don’t have to be spoken, they just are.

I want to ask him what it’s like to be a Starfleet officer again, following orders and adhering to principles he once lost faith in. What did it take to wear these colors with such ease, to fit back into the mold? Maybe this is something best left to a private conversation, or a letter, so he has a chance to sort his thoughts.

“How are you?” I know he will understand the complexity of my question. _Are you happy? Are you at peace? Are you grounded? What would you like to tell me?_

He looks to his side once again and it confirms my suspicion that there is someone in the room with him. As the first officer, the crew will be especially interested in what he has to say, so I can understand his reluctance to speak freely.

“I am well. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this comfortable being on board a Starfleet ship again, but we have a good crew and possibly the best captain the fleet has to offer.” I try to remember what I know about Kathryn Janeway, the woman who was sent to take my brother to prison for following his moral compass and who then made him her second in command. I wonder what it has been like for him to serve under her, how she gained his respect, and, judging from the glint in his eyes, perhaps his affection? Yet another conversation made impossible by our time and privacy restrictions.

He clears his throat. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear what you have been up to.”

 _Oh Chakotay…_ _There is so much I want to tell you_. About the Cardassians, about mom, about Blue Water Dreamer, about my spiritual training, about the void he left behind, about everything that has changed after the war. _Another time_.

“I went to the Lakota museum in South Dakota last week. They had a fascinating exhibit about artwork throughout the centuries, some truly beautiful pieces. I was looking for some inspiration for my own work. You would have loved it.” I hope he understands why I had the need to seek out the history of our childhood friend. “The exhibit has caused quite the stir. Some of the pieces were thought to be lost and some were modern interpretations of the ancient symbols. It was so inspiring.”

A sadness finds its way into his smile. “That sounds wonderful. I wish I could have seen it with you.”

“You were there, in my thoughts.” I pause. I need to find something positive. I want this to be a happy memory because who knows how many of those he gets. “Do you remember our lake? The one you found all those years ago?”

He nods and the cloud over his features lifts. “Of course.”

“I was there last month. The water is still just as clear. I sat on our rock, and I wondered if you could still make it all the way down to the bottom, now that you have been stuck on your tin can for so long.” I leave out the sadness I felt during my visit. The aching solitude and gaping emptiness at my core. Better to think of happier days, tease him for the sake of remembering our childhood.

Then I hear a female voice “Commander, you have thirty seconds remaining.”

He just gives a nod in acknowledgement and his face shows the sadness that has struck me as well. My heart speeds up. Our time is almost over and we have said nothing worth saying. Nothing that will stay with us, nothing that truly matters, just nonsense and pointless anecdotes.

“Sekky, are you happy?”

How am I supposed to answer this?

“Yes. Happier now that I have seen your vain face.” I tease to hold back the tears.

His smile no longer reaches his eyes. “Thank you for making the time.” He looks quickly to his side again, to where the woman must be, then back at me.

“I will write you. Tell mom I love her, that I miss her.”

My heart is beating faster still. “I promise. I love you. Be safe.”

“You too. Don’t be sad, I…”

His image is replaced with the Starfleet insignia.

I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and lean back in my chair, pressing my hands to my face.

That’s it. Three minutes and he is gone again. I focus on the flow of air in and out of my lungs, doing my best to quiet the unrest of my mind. After a few deep breaths, my pulse begins to slow.

I think of this strong man whom I get to call my brother. I bring back this new image of him, recall the light in his eyes and the dimples showing with his smile. A calm spreads inside of me.

He is well.

And he is going to find his way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as usual to Klugtiger for always putting up with my neediness and knowing just how to get the best out of me. <3


End file.
